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Salvadoran Gangland
The origin of El Salvador’s gang problem: The United States
Marvin wears the story of his life carved on his skin.
The scar near his eyebrow from a machete blow, his ear lobes that bear the tattoos “1” and “8” to proclaim his membership in the Calle 18 street gang from East L.A., the tattoo on the back of his neck “Fuck You Bitch” that bespeaks a bitter marriage. Another tattoo on his upper arm depicts a clown behind prison bars — a symbol of himself and two Greek theatre masks bearing a phrase that underscores his philosophy: “Laugh now, cry later.” Like a good Latino son, he wears Mi Madrecita Linda (my pretty little mother) across his chest, bordering the mark left by a four-inch knife that almost slashed through to his heart.
But what stands out most is his right arm which ends in a stump at the wrist. He knows that will be the first question of the interview, so he answers it without being asked. “I blew up my hand with a grenade,” he says nonchalantly. “I still feel it though, you know. It’s like feeling a closed fist. I can still feel my fingers, here and here and here. Weird, huh?”
We’re sitting in the shabby office of Homies Unidos in San Salvador. It’s a support group for homeboys who want to quit gang life. Marvin, 25 years old, is telling me how he arrived in Los Angeles at the age of 5 with his mother, entered the world…
